


Office Supplies and Love

by eratothemuse



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 11:23:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16891671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eratothemuse/pseuds/eratothemuse
Summary: Dean Smith has just gotten promoted to VP of Sales and Marketing for Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc. and you, his on the low office fling and secretary, get him a customized pen as a congratulatory gift. He winds up confessing how he really feels about you, but are you ready for that? ((AU - Had to give Dean Smith from 4x17 It’s a Terrible Life some love.))





	Office Supplies and Love

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t mean for it to be so long but the more I thought about Dean Smith the more I had the feels and the more I wrote! Oops! I’ve never entered a challenge before but I had so much fun writing this, so I hope everyone likes it. This is for Mimi’s Romcom Fluff Challenge from Say Anything prompt #59: She gave me a pen. I gave her my heart, she gave me a pen. @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog [on tumblr]

Things just kept going the right way for Dean as of late. He had completed that cleanse of his and lost a few pounds as a result. Sales were up in his division, which always reflected well upon his management at work. Of course, there was his unexpected promotion from Director to Vice President of Sales and Marketing. Then, there was tonight. To top off this perfect month he’d been having, the other corporate bigwigs of Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc. had announced the company was to host a business party to congratulate him on this new position. The suggestion had apparently been that of Mr. Adler’s, and no one ever argued with Mr. Adler that Dean knew of.

It could be said Dean was in a good mood tonight. He had no reason not to be after all the good news he’d gotten. Hell, even his hair had parted perfectly on the first try when he got ready for the function earlier in the evening. The suit he chose to wear was a little dressier than the usual, but still professional enough for a party hosted by his company. Even though the party was officially in his and the company’s honor, it was unofficially just as much to keep the morale of the other employees up and give him a chance to soothe the wounds of the coworkers that he’d beat out of the promoted position.

The invitation had been extended to everyone who worked in the company, from his department to the higher-ups. Even the tech guys had been invited, so he wasn’t surprised when he exited his car at the venue to almost immediately run into familiar faces upon entering.

“Hey, congratulations, Dean,” Sam Wesson offers his hand and Dean shakes it, but Dean’s real attention was on the phone in his other hand’s grip.

“Thanks, man. I really couldn’t do anything without the whole team, you know,” Dean politely smiles, thinking he’d be able to keep the fact that he was scanning the crowd subtle enough.

“Looking for someone?” Sam catches on, causing Dean’s eyes to snap back to the taller man’s as his lips part slightly at having been caught.

“Oh, well, yeah,” his admission comes out sheepishly, but Dean manages to keep a professional façade as he elaborates, “my… secretary said she’d be here.”

“Ah, part of that team of yours you’ve been shucking all the praise onto, huh? You should take some credit for yourself. After all, you’re the one with the promotion,” Sam reminds with a joking smile before he gives him a friendly pat on the shoulder, ultimately leaving him with, “I’ll let you find your secretary, but, hey, we should get together later.”

“Sure thing. Catch up with you later, Sam.”

Dean doesn’t know why he finds it so surprising every time he manages to keep himself professional when it came to you. Truth was, the title of secretary hardly defined you properly at this point. The two of you had been involved in more than a professional sense for the last four months now and it still shocked him just how easy it was to keep that detail private from his coworkers and friends.

The secrecy had added a spark to the relationship that hadn’t been present in any of his relationships prior to the one he had with you. There wasn’t any denying the fact that the power dynamic was a fantasy of his, but in the end Dean had gotten together with you not because your being his secretary was a turn-on, but because you were  _you_.

As he moved further into the party he was stopped and congratulated by several other coworkers along the way, but the whole time he was keeping his eye out for you. He’d checked his phone several times already, even sending you a text asking if he’d beat you there, but hadn’t gotten any kind of response in return.

Just before Dean can reach the bar area to scan for you, Mr. Adler stops him with a deceptively strong hand on his shoulder, “There’s the man of the hour! How’s our newest VP of Sales and Marketing?”

“Mister Adler, it’s good to see you, sir,” Dean smiles, hoping it would hide the annoyance at his interruption.

It’s convincing enough, apparently, because Mr. Adler gives him a laugh so short it makes Dean wonder if it’s fake, “I’m expecting great things from you, Dean. Great things!” After that Dean somewhat drifts in and out of the conversation. He’d learned from his interaction with Sam and was successfully more subtle when his eyes occasionally darted to the crowd surrounding him and Mr. Adler in vain, never catching a glimpse of you. Mr. Adler finally ends the mostly one-sided conversation save for a few effortless responses from Dean with the same tight grin he’d started it with, “Go on and enjoy the party, Dean. After all, all of this is for you.”

Dean reflexively returns the handshake he’s offered, “Already am, sir.”

When a server passes by, he takes two champagnes. He wished they were offering something stronger, but if he didn’t find you in his next sweep of the room both of the drinks were going to wind up being for him. Just when he’s about to give up his search of the venue, he finds himself in a more secluded area away from the thick of the party. Aside from Dean, this room was otherwise empty he realizes as he steps further into it.

“Dean,” he hears like music to his ears, causing him to turn in search of the source of the call of his name, finding you under the arch he’d just walked through. Dean’s raised brows dissolve into a less stressed and happier look at the sight of you. The corners of his mouth quirk upwards into the first genuine smile he’d probably given all night, just for you.

“Was beginning to think you’d ditched me,” Dean begins, offering you the drink that you take with a small giggle as you shake your head. “I looked all over and didn’t see you. I can barely get through the workday without you, so I was beginning to panic when I thought I’d have to schmooze my way through tonight on my own.”

“I’m not that cruel, Dean,” you hum as you take a sip. Dean finally notices the small box you were holding in the same hand you held a clutch that matched your dress. It was a dark and professional looking box, wrapped with a single green ribbon that alerted him to the fact it was a present. Your eyes follow his to your hand and you raise the box to offer it to him, “I was a little late because I had to pick this up first. I know you’ve probably heard this a thousand times already, but congratulations on the promotion.”

Taking it, Dean chuckles, “You didn’t have to. You do enough for me already.”

“Just open it!” when he glances up, he sees the excitement at the prospect of him potentially liking your gift in your eyes. That’s reason enough for him to pull the ribbon free of its knot and lift the top off the box that fit easily in his hand.

“Woah,  _sweet_ ,” Dean breathes at what he finds, “A MontBlanc? This is an amazing pen, (Y/N).”

“Figured you’d need something to sign ‘Dean Smith, Vice President of Sales and Marketing’ with,” you announce, taking another sip of your drink as your eyes flick from his eyes to the gift you’d given and back again. You studied him, gauging how much he liked it by the expression he wore.

Dean’s lips were parted in surprise, his brows raised as he lifted the pen from it’s sleek box. It’s weighted in his hands just as any luxury pen should feel and he already knows it’s going to write beautifully just by the packaging and reputation a MontBlanc had. It’s not until his thumb runs over the opposite side of its smooth surface that Dean feels the indentions there.

“You had it engraved?” Dean glances up at you after his eyes find his name in a beautiful font etched into the rollerball as if it were meant to be there all along.

You were biting your lip in anticipation at him, “Do you like it, Dean?”

“Like it? I love it! It’s just what I needed,” Dean laughs, placing the pen back into the box as he takes a step towards you, eyes focused on your lips as he questions, “Where would I be without you?”

“Hmm,” you pretend to think as his hand finds your arm, smoothing downy your skin until his fingers intertwine with your own, “good thing you don’t have to worry about that.”

When he kisses you it’s familiar yet foreign at the same time. The rational part of your mind knew that you’d kissed Dean before plenty a time, but somehow each time felt different. Each time was as if you were kissing him for the first time all over again. He was gentle yet firm against you, pressing into you and keeping control of the kiss with ease as his neck bent to allow his lips to come to your height. Dean was probably the best kisser you could think of and you really weren’t surprised of that fact. Even if you didn’t have first-hand testimony to give, you could have guess that because Dean just  _looked_  like he’d be a good kisser.

The chatter and music of the party seemed to dim in the distance as your ears focused more on Dean’s breaths and the sound of his lips against your own. The fabric of his suit is thick and soft against your fingers when you grip the collar to pull him against you the rest of the way until you were chest-to-chest. You knew better than to give into the temptation to run your fingers through his hair and mess up his part, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a struggle to resist.

Dean tasted of the few sips of champagne he’d had along with the peppermint he’d had before that hadn’t been completely washed away with the drink. He smelled of a cologne that was slightly more rugged than someone would think would fit a man like him, but it somehow fit perfectly all the same. You didn’t think you’d ever get enough of those small details about him.

Over the last four months neither of you had defined what you were to each other aside from your professional standings as the boss and his secretary. You didn’t mind that, really, because you were living in the moment. You hadn’t been looking for a serious relationship when you’d gotten involved with Mr. Smith. At the time, you’d in all honestly only been worried about what he could do with that mouth that was now moving against yours all these months after that very first encounter. You didn’t know what you were doing or what you were together, but none of that really mattered. You’d never looked at him and wondered, ’ _What are we?_ ’ with any sort of desire for an answer. All you did know was that right here, right now at this moment in your life you wanted him because you were having fun doing it.

That’s what you were thinking when you gripped the lapels of his suit, breathing against him fluidly as you kissed him back just as passionately as he was kissing you. God, did I already say you loved kissing him? You were entranced with how his lips nipped and sucked against your own. Dean didn’t use too much tongue like some of your previous boyfriends did, more of an occasional tease with it than anything else. The brunt of the effort of the kiss was taken on by those plump lips of his. Lips that, were they situated on anyone else’s face would perhaps look feminine, but framed by Dean’s jaw and the slight shadow of stubble that fought back against its daily shave, only served to make him look even more tempting than he already did.

Dean pulls away suddenly but keeps you against him by his hands on your waist and in your own, respectively. The look that furrowed his brow was more intense than you think you’d seen before as he captured your eyes with purpose. It was almost akin to one of those looks you’d seen him get whenever he was deciding on some important change to be implemented in the department, brows furrowed until that little dent appeared between them and his lips slightly parted in thought. Then, he said it. Words heavy with honesty and fueled by the expectation of reciprocation as that was all they had ever been met with before. Words that Dean had heard frequently from his parents, Bob and Ellen, and his sister, Jo, along with a few of his past loves that he lost along the way. Words that, now, Dean was saying to you in such a heartfelt way that it honestly, deep down, scared you a little bit.

“I love you.”

“What,” you hear yourself reply blandly as if in a daze, more stunned than anything else as you still process his words. Your heart skipped a beat, your breath caught, and you were certain for a split, terrifying second that you were having a heart attack.

As quickly as that second passed and the next came, you realized you weren’t.

“I’m in love with you, (Y/N),” Dean repeats, tilting his head slightly as he looks to you for a response in a similar vein to the confession he’d just made. The first flicker of worry showing in his eyes at your hesitation.

Dean was in love. With  _you_?

“Why?” you can’t help the single word from slipping from you in a genuine confusion, earning a stunned look from Dean as he opens and closes his mouth for a moment.

“Huh?” is all he can manage, the initial romance of his confession slowly fading from the air the longer you didn’t repeat his words back to him.

“We’ve only been together for four months,” you begin, pulling away just enough that his hand falls from your waist but keeps your grip, “How can you possibly know that you love me? We aren’t even public, Dean. We don’t even know what ‘ _we’_ are!”

You knew that look that he was giving you now. It was the one he had when he was problem-solving. When he was spurting out new ideas for the company that could have it working a hundred times better than it was. Maximizing profit.

Problem was, you weren’t some problem Dean could solve in that moment. You were a girl standing in front of him and asking him how he could  _possibly_  know he loved you right now. In fact, you were the first girl to ever have asked Dean why.

“I know, baby,” Dean assures, reaching up to grip you by your biceps as his thumbs rub against you gently, not serving to settle you any despite their efforts. “I know I love you. Believe me. Have I ever lied to you before?”

“If you don’t know the reasons why, how do you know for sure?” you shoot back, pulling back fully this time as you try to compose yourself. Give yourself a moment to catch your breath and not break down right here as the terror of his confession and what it meant seeped into your skin. You needed to  _leave_. Right now. “I think— I need to go home. Goodnight, Dean.”

“What? Wait,” he goes after you, but you’re already out of his reach as you quickly escape towards the party. By the time he catches up, you’re in the middle of it, surrounded by people you knew from work with no intention of stopping. He grabs some of their attention when he calls your name, “(Y/N), wait!”

Only you don’t stop and Dean knows he can’t follow you as you exit the party. He was the guest of honor and still hadn’t given any sort of speech that was still expected later in the evening. Dean is left wide-eyed and open-mouthed as he watches you disappear through the doors that people were still entering from, his chest feeling heavy as he wondered if he’d just messed things up with you by moving too fast.

He finds himself wandering over the bar, sitting the pen’s box in front of him as he finally nursed that stronger drink he’d wanted earlier.

Dean doesn’t even really notice Sam settling into the seat beside him until he asks, “Did you find your secretary?”

Dean glances towards him out of the corner of his eye, a deep frown on his face as he dwells further on the events of the night, “Yeah, I did.” He debates for a split second if he wanted to elaborate to this tech guy, but something about Sam was inviting to him. For some reason, Dean wanted to open up to Sam, “I seriously think I screwed things up, Sam.”

A flash of realization shows on Sam’s face, “Ah, so you and your secretary are…”

“Yeah,” Dean takes a swig of his drink, leaning back in his chair as he reaches forward to finger the box in thought. “Or, at least, we were. I don’t know if she feels the same about me anymore.”

“What’s that?” Sam asks, nodding towards the box.

“It’s a pen.  **She gave me a pen,** ” a scoff comes from Dean, “ **I gave her my heart, she gave me a pen.** ”

“Alright, that’s it,” Sam sighs, taking the drink from Dean, ignoring the surprised glare it gets him, “you’re going after her. If you feel that strongly about her, than this party shouldn’t matter at all. Mr. Adler and the other suits can handle tonight without you. Just say you got sick or something.”

“I can’t just ditch this! This is my life, Sam,” Dean protests, but even when he says it it feels wrong. Off.

“Can you accept that this could possibly be a life without the girl you supposedly love, then? Because if you can, I don’t know if you can say it’s really love you’re feeling,” Sam shoots back, giving Dean a look that somehow seems familiar even though he knew the tech guy hadn’t ever given it to him before. “Just something to think about.”

There was a logical side of Dean that hesitates for a moment. A side of him that was worried about the implications leaving would have on his job, but that side of him wasn’t loud enough at the moment. Dean gives a nod and swipes the box off the bartop, knowing he had to do what Sam was suggesting in order to feel right about himself tomorrow morning.

“You’re right, Sammy. I’m going after her.”

“Yeah, don’t call me that,” Sam chuckles. “Good luck, Dean.”

“Thanks. I’ll need it.”

Dean finds himself tapping his foot as he waited impatiently on the valet to pull his car around. The butterflies in his stomach weren’t going away any time soon as he thought back to how you’d reacted after he had told you how he felt. You had asked him why did he love you? Dean had the time it took to drive to your place to collect those reasons into words that he hadn’t been able to articulate on the spot.

But as he knocked on your door, he knew that any words he could possibly say would still be inadequate to the feelings he had for you, even though you’d only been together for the span of four months.

“(Y/N), baby? Come on open the door,” Dean calls as he knocks again, resting his forehead on the wood of the door until he hears you unlock it. It swings open and he’s caught by your wary eyes.

You hadn’t yet changed out of your dress, but Dean’s tie was a little looser around his neck than it had been at the party, “Dean, I—”

“You want to know how I know I love you, right?” he interrupts and you see the flicker of fear in his eyes for a moment, probably afraid you’d close the door on him. Dean takes a shaky breath when you don’t reply, “It’s that feeling in my gut, alright. Unlike anything I’ve ever felt— it makes the feelings that I had for anyone before you seem childish in comparison. Hell, I left the party because of how I feel about you, (Y/N). So what if Mr. Adler chews me out tomorrow? Not even my job matters if I mess this up with you.”

You swallow dryly, leaning out of the doorway as you ask, “Do you want to do this out here, or do you want to come in?”

“Yes, please,” he huffs, moving past you and into the house. His hand goes to the back of his neck as he rubs it nervously for a second.

“So, you really love me, Dean? It’s not just some four-letter-word to you?” watching him cautiously, you lean on the closed door. You couldn’t help but be skeptical. After all, things were going so fast between you and the way you felt for him scared you. You were afraid of getting your heart broken and the more you dwelled on his confession, the more you realized you were dangerously vulnerable. You couldn’t admit it out loud, not until you were certain.

“Some four-letter-word? (Y/N), does that sound like me? I wouldn’t play like this with you. I love you and I mean it,” Dean steps towards you and you find yourself cornered between him and your door. “You’re so thoughtful all the time. So damn thorough that honestly it can make me angry when you pick up on little things that I don’t want you to notice, but it’s what makes you great at your job. I can’t go on without you. If you don’t love me, too, I can accept that, but if you’re worried I’m playing you, that’s not me.” His hand comes up to your jaw, cupping it as he gives you a crooked smile, searching your eyes for an answer, “If I have to say it a thousand more times before you’ll believe me, I will. I love you.”

Your hands find his hips as you inch up on your toes to brush your lips against his gently. He pushes back into your kiss until you rock back onto the pads of your feet, kissing you smoothly against the door to your home. You could feel the box of your present to him in his front pocket, but the mild discomfort only sits in the back of your mind. Dean’s ‘I love you’ played over and over in your mind and from this kiss, you know he’s telling the truth.

You part from him with his taste still on your tongue, your smile wide as you giggle in happiness, “If you want to say it a thousand more times, I won’t complain. I love you, too, Dean.”

Dean lets out a relieved breath before grinning at you, “You had me scared for a while, there, you know that right? You sure do have a way of keeping me on my toes, (Y/N).” He bends to kiss the side of your mouth before he pecks your cheek, “See? There’s another reason I love you.”


End file.
